


on your knees

by Profundus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Supportive Iwaizumi Hajime, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27290167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Profundus/pseuds/Profundus
Summary: Before he closes the last clasp of the brace, Hajime places a feather-light kiss on top of Tooru's knee."Don't think I didn't feel that. My knee hurts, it's not numb.""I didn't mean to hide it," Hajime says, but the heat rising up to his cheeks is treacherous.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 16
Kudos: 230





	on your knees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tisapear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisapear/gifts).



Beneath the giant glass dome, the airport is buzzing with life and Hajime feels nearly suffocated in the masses of people around him. It's not like he isn't used to the crowded tightness of terminals and planes per se, but on a regular day, he'd be the one on the other side of the barrier, kept safe from the pushing and shoving and kicking by security personnel and a firm wall.

Traveling with the team has undeniable perks.

Still, he's glad that today there's only the list of arrival flights blinking at him in too bright orange from the overhead monitor that he has to keep an eye on.

And only one very specific arrival at that.

It's been announced a few minutes ago, so all Hajime can really do is keep waiting, even though his heartbeat is on an unhealthy three hundred beats per minute. He can't stop fiddling with the bouquet in his hands and the sweat that slicks his palms is ice cold – feels like it, at least.

His thoughts are bouncing back and forth in his head like restless rubber balls and he can't get ahold of a coherent one for longer than a few seconds at a time. How can he still be so nervous?, he thinks to himself in an overwhelming rush of frustration when his focus slips once again. It's not like it's his first time doing this, not like—

"Oikawa-san!" they squeal, too close to his ear, too close to his boyfriend who's sauntering through the terminal, parting the crowd like the Red Sea with presence and arrogance alone and Hajime feels a small sting right where he supposes his heart should be, but it's beating so high in his throat that it is hard to tell.

He wasn't even the first to spot him but there he is now, so whole and shining and so beautiful it hurts to know they're breathing the same air.

"Iwa-chan!" Tooru calls out and throws his arms around Hajime's neck and himself into their tight embrace, not realizing or not caring that he's crushing the bouquet between them although the crackling of the cellophane wrap should give that away.

 _Idiot,_ Hajime wants to say because that's what Tooru's expecting, _you should've stayed in Argentina where I don't have to see your ugly mug._

But he can't.

Not today of all days, he can't.

"Welcome back, Tooru," he mutters, nestles close, impossibly close to him, and shuts his eyes for a moment. Nothing more. He just grants himself a moment of lost comfort he's been missing for over a year.

Tooru smells good. Not at all like someone who hopped on a plane in Buenos Aires a whole day ago and hasn't showered since. There's a whiff of his deodorant, sure, but most importantly, he smells like Tooru Oikawa and that's a scent Hajime wants in a bottle for safekeeping. Carry a little bit of home around in his bag.

"So sentimental, Iwa-chan! And you even brought flowers for me!" Tooru coos and smiles that too-pretty honest smile he has never shown any other person and deep down, in a small part of his mind that rarely dares to speak, Hajime hopes he never will.

Flowers, right.

He adjusts the paper wrapping and hands the bouquet to Tooru, who takes it and clutches it tightly to his chest, pink roses _(Because pink means forever,_ the old man in the flower shop has told him) in sweet contrast to the blue shirt he wears so proudly.

"Sorry. You really didn't have to go through all that trouble. I'm the one who's inconveniencing you," Tooru says quietly and all of a sudden, there's an exhaustion in his voice that hurts Hajime in places he didn't know existed.

"The apology comes a bit late. You've been inconveniencing me since the day we met," he says and hopes the sharpness of his words will burn away the worry.

Tooru laughs, but it sounds a bit strained, like someone is slowly cutting off his air. "Definitely good old Iwa-chan. I was afraid you'd change while I was gone, but apparently, you didn't. What a relief."

Even with Hajime taking some of his luggage, they both have their hands full until everything is outside and loaded into the trunk, ("Did you fill that up with bricks? It weighs a ton!" — "Mean, Iwa-chan! Those are just my clothes!") but as soon as they're settled in the car and on the road, Tooru falls eerily silent and Hajime has never been a great talker, so he presses his lips together and tries to give him space.

He's tired from the flight, probably, and hungry, at least that's how Hajime always feels after getting out of an airport.

"How long will it take from here? To your new apartment, I mean."

"About half an hour if we happen to run into evening rush hour. Less if we manage to avoid it."

He knows the city well, and he knows the times and places that allow for an easy detour. Even so, only halfway through the drive, Tooru pales. It's a concerning ashen color, the one Hajime only knows from bad defeats when he realizes he could give it his all now and would still lose.

"You good?" he asks, unsure, worrying his lip between his teeth as he takes the last turn. "We're almost there. Two minutes."

"I'm fine. It's fine."

That sounds a little too forced for Hajime's liking, but he doesn't argue. He should have, he realizes when Tooru opens the door as soon as the car is parked, tries to get up, and his knee buckles. Not a single noise of pain slips from him, year-long suppression of any sign of weakness rendering him unable to even talk as Hajime rushes to his side.

"It's okay, we can stay here for as long as you need."

"I have to get up," Tooru mutters at last, eyes closed, unwilling to see anything but the darkness behind his lids. "It got so much worse from always sitting down."

The sweat from his brow is slowly trailing down his temples and chin, dripping onto the hands that clutch his knee, brace now visible as the fabric of his jeans tightens under his harsh grip.

It takes a few breaths of fresh air and a couple unsteady steps for him to gain his composure back but then he's walking again, only the slightest limp giving away that his knee is weaker than it was before he left for Argentina. Hajime watches from the front door, one bag slung over his shoulder, the other in his hand, yet ready to drop everything at any moment. He watches, hackles rising, as Tooru goes to follow him up the stairs to the front door.

"Be careful."

The words slip, _I'm worried_ hangs unsaid in the air between them. It's not how they talk to one another, and he knows it. There's an unreadable glint in those hazel eyes.

"Will be. Lead the way."

Tooru refuses to hold onto the railing, arrogant idiot that he is, still shaking from the pain, but Hajime says nothing because nothing is better when saying anything at all would make it worse.

It's painful to see the realization in Tooru's face when Hajime walks past the staircase and to the apartment door right next to the entrance.

"I thought it'd be easier if you ever visited." There's a strange need to explain himself, the desire to let Tooru know he cares, more than he's ever done about anyone before, even though he never says it. "With the surgery coming up and whatnot. Would be best to not have you walking up and down too many stairs during recovery phase either."

It's disgraceful and humiliating, he knows it, but they can worry about mending Tooru's pride after they mend his knee. There's a priority, at least to Hajime.

"You're right." His tone is so lighthearted again, as if he hasn't just broken down just from getting out of the car. "It's probably for the best. Thanks for always taking care of me, Iwa-chan."

Now there's the hint of mockery, but deep down, Hajime knows he means it.

"Someone has to do it since you're obviously not able to. I cooked beforehand if you're hungry." For a moment, he hesitates when Tooru reaches to take one of the bags from him, then he relents. "Or you can go shower first. Or sleep." He's desperate to see him relax in some way, get that pain-induced glassy shimmer away from his eyes.

Not heeding any of his words, Tooru stalks into the bedroom, drops down onto the bed and sighs with the deep relief of someone getting home after far too long.

"That's very sweet of you," he hums at last when Hajime has already been certain he's fallen asleep on the spot. "I just wanna drink something and then catch a shower. After that, let's see."

The glass of water brought to him comes with two pills, one whole, one broken in half. He cracks one eye open to scrutinize them, nudges the whole one away and has it placed back in his palm.

"Take them. It'll help with both, the pain and the inflammation."

"I get tired."

"You already are. I don't even have to look at you to know that," Hajime says firmly. "It doesn't matter, Tooru. You can sleep all day and night if you want to."

Tooru stares at the pills again. Swallows dry.

"I just got here. I want to spend time with you."

"We have all the time in the world. Take your medicine, go shower. We can watch a movie afterwards and you just sleep whenever you feel like it."

"I get to choose the movie?" Tooru asks like he doesn't _always_ get to choose the movie because he will sulk for hours if there's an exception to that rule.

"Whichever one you like," Hajime says softly and pushes the glass of water towards him.

"Then I want to watch The Fox and the Hound."

"But you always cry when the fox mother dies in the beginning. And when that one dog almost dies. And when the old woman puts her fox back out into the forest and leaves."

Tooru pouts. "It's a sad movie."

Judging from how obediently he takes his pills after that, Hajime suspects he won't be awake for more than ten minutes into the movie anyway. He busies himself by preparing snacks and putting on the movie and uncomfortably pacing up and down the hallway until he hears the inevitable crash from the bathroom and rushes in to find Tooru on the floor, face bloody and hands shaking.

"I can do it on my own, okay? I can— I don't need you, I can—"

He can't and Hajime knows it and he also knows it's tears Tooru is trying to cover, not his bleeding nose.

"Stupid," he says, but it's kind and loving and he repeats it because it's true, "Stupid. Just let me help you."

Tooru lets him and stands up, healthy leg first, still a bit unstable but it's fine because now he's got something to hold onto in case his knee gives out again, but Hajime pushes him down onto the edge of the tub and makes him sit there while he cleans his face and shoves a tissue into his hand.

"Here. Put your head down so it'll stop."

Surprisingly enough, Tooru is compliant today and Hajime has enough time to kneel down and grab the white brace from the marble counter by the sink. Long time no see, he thinks as he turns it in his hands and carefully untangles the belts.

"Nice sight, to have you on your knees before me," the slightly muffled voice from above comments and Hajime frowns and sticks out his tongue. 

Childish. Tooru always makes him so childish.

"Nice sight, you bleeding all over my bathroom floor. That's what I always wanted."

"Rude," Tooru mutters, but they're serious now as Hajime carefully fits the brace around his knee.

"Tell me if it hurts."

"You're kidding, right? It _always_ hurts."

Naturally. The inflammation hasn't gotten any better since last time, Hajime notices as he fastens the belts, ever so cautious not to put pressure on the joint. Even from barely brushing against it, he can feel how warm and swollen it is. Before he closes the last clasp, he places a feather-light kiss on top of Tooru's knee and stands up.

"Don't think I didn't feel that. My knee hurts, it's not numb."

"I didn't mean to hide it," Hajime says, but the heat rising up to his cheeks is treacherous.

The way to the bedroom is agonizing for both of them, but once Tooru is settled comfortably with a pillow beneath his knee and everything he needs in reach, it's almost like it was years ago already. Movie, snacks, drinks, bed. Just them, nobody and nothing else.

Hajime has barely pressed play on the remote when Tooru is already making grabby hands at him. Of course he's getting in the mood to cuddle now. He's tired and clean and it's the end of another exhausting day, so the last thing that's missing is the familiar embrace they share since elementary school.

"You're unbelievable," Hajime says and moves to wrap one arm around Tooru, because it really _is_ hard to believe he can actually do that again.

This year apart has been hell if he's ever seen it.

"You should come to Argentina. Coach Dominguez is looking for a successor to his legacy. And we desperately need a trainer who's not last played volleyball fifty years ago." Tooru is already yawning before the movie has even started.

Leaving Japan has never been on Hajime's agenda. Holidays in South America, yeah. Sure. He loves to visit his boyfriend, loves to see Tooru in his natural habitat – the volleyball court – surrounded by his admittedly very nice teammates and swooned over by the fans on the bleachers.

But the surgery he needs right now is much safer and affordable in Japan and for his recuperation period as well as rehab, Tooru will be better off here.

"Maybe," Hajime says anyway because he knows it'll bring him some peace and quiet for a while.

Content with the white lie he can smell from miles away, Tooru nuzzles his neck and is gone before the opening credits are over and the fox mother dies.

* * *

"Okay. You tell me when it starts to hurt. I want to give you a comfortable stretch."

Tooru gives an undefined sound of approval, arms curled around the pillow on the floor. The exercises they do are light, Hajime makes sure of it. He's talked to so many medics and surgeons and specialists that there's no way there's anything he hasn't heard yet about how to ease the pain for Tooru until surgery day.

Hajime moves to bend Tooru's knee, gently holding onto his ankle until his boyfriend goes slack, pain dissipating for once, allowing his entire body to relax. Exercise time has become a sacred routine for the both of them – for Tooru because he gets rid of the ever-present agony in his knee for an hour, for Hajime because he finally has an excuse to touch Tooru for as long as he wants.

"Good?" he asks quietly, tracing the defined muscles of Tooru's thigh with two fingertips.

"Mmmhh."

That doesn't sound all too bad, does it now. By the time Hajime slowly lets go and brings Tooru's leg back down, his boyfriend is half asleep on the floor, only peering up at him through a blur of heavy lashes.

"Don't stop," he slurs, sun-dappled lips barely moving as he talks.

They're warm, Hajime finds out when he leans down and places a soft kiss on them. Not just from the golden light that falls in sideways through the window, but warm from the fever always glowing under Tooru's skin lately.

This surgery has to be successful or Hajime is taking him God knows where and, no matter what the price will be, demand whoever is capable to fix this. Fix Tooru.

"We can't overdo it with the exercise, remember?" Hajime mutters as he adjusts the pillow under Tooru's cheek and brushes his hair back. "You wanna sleep for a bit? I'll be at work soon and you have the entire apartment to yourself."

Those naps, right after the pain relief, are one of Tooru's favorite pastimes now. He doesn't sleep much at night, tosses and turns restlessly, can't sit, can't lie down, can't stand up because everything hurts, and so most times Hajime has to work him through a few exercises or knock him out with sleeping pills to get a tiny bit of rest into him.

It's not healthy, but if it helps, neither of them is going to complain.

"No. Don't wanna sleep."

Pouty, now clinging to Hajime's hand, Tooru rolls over onto his side.

"What you want then?"

"Go with you."

Hajime looks at him incredulously. "To work? You said you don't want to be even near a volleyball until you can play again. And besides, the way is long."

Tooru just puffs out his cheeks and sits up for earnest this time. "I wanna go with you to work. And I want matcha cake when we get back," he declares and promptly, before Hajime can say another word in protest, stands up.

The limp in his leg is barely noticeable after exercise, only the way his hips move indicates the struggle he puts up with every day.

"One day you're going to climb Mount fucking Everest with that knee of yours because someone told you you couldn't if you tried," Hajime says, more to himself than anything, and follows Tooru down the corridor just in time to see him stepping into his sneakers and crouching down to tie the laces.

"You aren't supposed to bend your knee like that!"

Hajime flares up with disbelief. This blithering idiot goes and puts what little tension he's managed to work from his hamstring back onto it!

"It's not like my shoes will magically tie themselves if just stand here and stare at them!" Tooru snaps back.

Right.

"Come on, sit down." With a brief roll of his eyes, Hajime pushes Tooru onto the small bench by the door and kneels before him.

"I can do it myself!"

The complaint goes right over Hajime's head. "But you shouldn't. So, just let me do it for you. What good is it if we work for hours when you ruin it within two minutes again?"

There's a deep shade of red dusting Tooru's cheeks now and his eyes are glistening at the corners. "If I can't even tie my damn shoes on my own, how am I ever supposed to get back into volleyball?" He's sobbing now, although still holding back the tears.

"Surgery and good old western medicine," Hajime retorts in the blandest voice he can manage, but then he face softens. "Hey. Don't cry. Remember when we were little? I used to forget how to tie my laces all the time and threw a fit when my parents took away my last Velcro shoes. You tied my shoes for six weeks before we got the epiphany that you could teach me how to do it on my own. So, I'm just returning the favor now."

Tooru sniffles. Once, twice. Damn, Hajime is going to run late for work.

"If you stop crying now, you can have matcha cake and whatever you want from Starbucks," he adds.

Tooru wipes his eyes.

"Even white hot chocolate?"

"Even white hot chocolate," Hajime agrees, glancing at the clock above the door. "But only this time."

Still puffy-eyed, Tooru clambers to his feet.

"Then let's go. Starbucks closes at ten."

* * *

If there's anything Hajime loves, it's to see Tooru happy.

And he looks the part today, bundled up in his coat and scarf and beanie, sipping his white hot chocolate and nibbling on one of the tiny matcha cakes they sell in the overpriced bakery by the main street.

"I like the team. They're nice. And you're a pretty awesome trainer."

It's a genuine compliment out of Tooru's mouth, and Hajime smiles. His breath is turning to soft, white clouds before his mouth as he talks. "Yeah, the guys are doing great, even though they haven't known each other for that long. Tsuneo is really hanging in there. He reminds me a lot of you, actually."

"Is that why you called him shitty today?"

Tooru laughs and Hajime sulks and they keep on walking from light beam to light beam down the street. The town is nearly deserted at this time of day, they're the only ones still out.

"The one thing I regret about this is that I have no hand free to hold yours," Tooru says remorsefully after a while and takes another bite from his cake, not at all seeming like he regrets anything.

"I think I can walk without you holding my hand. I'm all grown-up already."

Tooru chuckles, shakes his cup a bit and holds it out towards Hajime. "Yeah, I know. Want some too?"

The regular answer would be a firm No because the sweetness of white hot chocolate has never done anything to Hajime other than make him nauseous, but today, he leans over, hands still buried deep in his pockets, and takes a sip, if only to get a taste of Tooru's lips on the straw.

"Mm, good," he mutters and abandons the warmth of his pocket to coil one arm around his boyfriend. "Not nearly half as sweet as you are."

"Smooth," comes the soft whisper from beside him and then he's got both, white chocolate and Tooru's lips because they're kissing in the middle of the sidewalk and Hajime realizes too late that it's snowing.

There are ice crystals, tiny and delicate, stuck to the locks of caramel hair, bleached by Argentina's summer sun, peeking out from underneath Tooru's beanie and he reaches up to brush them away.

"You know, Christmas is coming up and you haven't told me your wish for this year yet," he says softly and closes the zipper of the thick jacket Tooru is wearing all the way.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Tooru smiles, genuinely beatific, and there are small glints of mirth in his eyes, like stars reflecting from deep waters at nighttime. His eyes are always cheerful, always alight with the planning of more mischief and an arrogance that drives everyone around him raving mad – including yet except Hajime.

"Because this year, you can't buy me anything. I want something entirely different, and if I tell you, it's not gonna happen."

"Fine," Hajime says, gently running his thumb over Tooru's reddened cheek. "I hope all your wishes come true."

He only has one, at least for the time being, and it is granted because Tooru finishes the last of his cake and holds out his now free hand.

Hajime takes it, slowly. He knows to relish the sensation. There's only far and few instances they can hold hands like this.

The snow continues to fall on their way home, covering their world in silent, happy whiteness, and when Hajime kneels down to untie Tooru's sneakers, he suddenly has two hands in his hair and a soft kiss is planted on his forehead.

"I hope so too."

* * *

"How are you holding up?" the doctor asks as she steps into the room, professional smile masking a stern expression.

It's a question not worth asking because Tooru is hurting and anxious and the anesthesiologist hasn't arrived yet, the wait is too long and they're both too tired for bad news. Hajime just squeezes his hand and tries to let Tooru feel the confidence he doesn't even have himself.

"Just tell me. It's too late now, right?" Tooru asks and his voice trembles even worse than his fingers that are clasped tightly around Hajime's palm. "I fucked up too bad. You can't do anything anymore."

"Not exactly," the doctor says and flips through the pages on her clipboard to a transparent sheet of the x-ray they took a few hours earlier. "We just ended the meeting about how we are going to perform the surgery. At first, the plan was to just remove the damaged tissue and let the knee heal on its own, but the latest x-ray showed that the patella needs realignment too. That's a way more complicated surgical intervention."

Hajime's heart clenches painfully at those words. More complicated means more dangerous and that means Tooru is even more prone to suffer lasting damage after the surgery or won't be able to get back into volleyball.

"I understand if you need time to process that, but if you are able to make a decision now, we can still get you ready for the operation," the doctor offers hesitantly, already on the retreat to leave them alone again.

But Tooru just turns away from her, eyes not even teary or angry, just exhausted and so hopeless that it wrenches on every single one of Hajime's heartstrings.

"What do you say?" he asks quietly. "Would you do it?"

"Tooru, that's not—"

"Would you do it?" Tooru repeats, clearer this time, and Hajime looks back at him in helpless shock.

"I mean— I don't know, I've never..." He breaks off, chews on the words, on his thoughts, swallows them down. It's a final, crucial decision. "You will hate yourself if you do it and it goes wrong. And you will hate yourself if you don't do it. But if you do it and everything turns out fine, you... you would have another chance."

This time, it's him.

He's the one crying, tears spilling over from the dam that has kept them back for far too long, but Hajime doesn't bother to wipe them away, lets them overflow, pour down his face and into his mouth where they taste salty and cool and a little bit acrid.

"I hate to see you in pain, I've always hated it. I can't take much more. You don't sleep at night, you don't eat by day, you don't even exist for anything other than the pain. The only time you seem really alive is when it gets so bad you start screaming. Other than that, it's like you're barely breathing at all."

He sobs – the violent, feral sound of a wounded animal – and sinks to the ground, shaking, barely even able to keep himself upright.

"I don't care what happens. I want this pain to stop. For you. And for me."

Tooru carefully slides off the chair he's been sitting in, hand clutching the cane he needs if he wants to take more than a single step forward now. His trembling hand brushes Hajime's chin, lifts it up slightly. He grimaces in pain, but he keeps standing there with Hajime on both knees before him.

"I guess you're right. This once. I spent my Christmas wish on it, so it has to work. It just has to."

Supported by his cane on one side and Hajime's hand on the other, Tooru fights his way down to the surgery room. The anesthesia they administer works quickly and he's slipping under with Hajime still sticking to his side, right to the moment he loses consciousness.

Two Christmas wishes have to be worth something, Hajime thinks desperately as he watches them close the doors.

* * *

Gold has always looked good on Tooru. Brings out those golden specks in his eyes. Brings out the rich, golden tone in his laugh, too. Gold suits Tooru.

Especially the golden medal dangling around his neck as he struggles free from his team that crowds him, attempts to keep him in the group photo, but when the flash goes off, Tooru is already bolting out of the frame and to the small group of people behind the camera.

He dives forward, a powerful leap just like the one that has scored the final point for Argentina today, and tackles Hajime with a force that's almost inhumane.

"We won!" he screams, hands clutching at the jacket that marks his boyfriend the official trainer. "We won, Iwa-chan!"

"I know, idiot!" Hajime yells back, but he's laughing too, louder than he's ever heard himself laugh before. He hasn't expected them to beat Brazil today, not in the last minute of the match, anyway.

And all thanks to Tooru.

He's standing there, vibrating with sheer overwhelming excitement, wide-eyed and grinning like an idiot. The happiest idiot in the world, Hajime thinks as he leans up to kiss him, but Tooru backs away.

For a moment, Hajime's heart stutters. Everyone knows about them. The team, his junior coach, most fans, almost the entire world. There's no reason for—

"No. No kiss today," Tooru says, but he fiddles with something in his hand. "Not right now. I first have to do something." He breathes deeply. "You spent so much time on your knees for me, always caring when nobody else would, always putting me first. I was never able to return that favor, until today. Thanks to you, again."

And he gets down on his knee, black brace audibly hitting the floor of the gym, but the sound is drowned out by the rushing of Hajime's blood in his own ears as he stares at the gleaming ring sitting on a soft cushion of silk in the tiny box Tooru holds out towards him.

**Author's Note:**

> My wife likes fluff. My wife gets fluff.
> 
> Love u owo


End file.
